Breathe
by SarahlovesA
Summary: Kate and Rick are at the Johanna Beckett Scholarship Benefit. Will things finally be right between them? Is it the time for extraordinary, at last?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer - if only I were AM and owned these characters!_

_A/N - This is __dedicated to my lovely friends at the ABC boards who are such a source of inspiration. Especially CastleFan40, MelTheorist, ByeBetty, Lala, and all the other creative and insightful people who enrich the Castle world for me. I wish I could mention you all._

_In this I imagine a scenario where __C and B get together at last in Season 4, ending the angst and providing us with the gorgeous Casketty glory that we crave. _

_**This chapter has been revised!**_

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It was a clear, starlit night in late October. Inside the magnificent ballroom hired for the Johanna Beckett Scholarship Benefit, a great, if somewhat raucous, time was being had by all. It was amusing to see all the normally uptight, moneyed folk letting their hair down, fuelled by Richard Castle's generous open bar.

Kate Beckett, cleared to drink alcohol for the first time in five months, was feeling more than a little light-headed after three glasses of champagne. It was after midnight and the dancing was starting to slow down. The lights had been turned down a little lower and the band was playing more seductive, slower tunes. Lanie and Esposito, Jenny and Ryan, Ashley and Alexis, Martha and her latest squire, were all on the dance floor, each couple entwined in their significant other's arms. As soon as the music became a little too romantic, Jim Beckett led Kate back to their table, where Castle was talking to an expensively dressed, silver-haired couple.

As the Becketts approached, the older pair moved away and Castle turned towards the detective and her father, smiling. 'They've just pledged an outrageous amount of money, so I think we need some more champagne.'

Jim shook his head and said, 'I'm going to call it a night. I'm getting a little too old to stay up until the small hours of the morning. Thank you for a wonderful evening and for doing this for us.' And, after kissing his daughter, shaking Castle's hand, and exchanging a few more pleasantries, he left them.

Castle turned to Kate, who was flushed from the wine and looking happier and more relaxed than she had in a very long time. Her chestnut hair was tumbling over her shoulders in wild abandon and, in her form-fitting lavender dress, with a high neck in front to hide her scar and a deeply plunging back, she looked so beautiful that he could not help staring. Light was being reflected through the crystal drops of the chandeliers overhead and dappling her creamy white shoulders and arms with little rainbows. His chest felt tight with love and desire. At first, he did not realise that she was talking to him.

'Castle! Castle, you're being creepy! Quit gawking at me and get me some more champagne!' Happy to see a glimpse of the old, feisty Kate, he laughed and went to get two glasses of bubbly. At least she did not seem to be too upset that Josh had not shown up.

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As she watched that broad back, clad in expensive black, walking away, Kate could not help smiling. He had done all this for her. It meant so much that there would be some lasting legacy from her mother's life, some recognition of what an incredible human being Johanna Beckett had been. And who except Richard Castle could have realised that was what Kate Beckett would do, if she ever had enough money? Who would be able to make it happen and make it such a resounding success? She was used to Castle's generosity, but, even after so long, his sensitivity and insight continued to astound her. How could she have ever thought that he was just a shallow, egotistical playboy?

After a few minutes, she saw him coming back, carrying two champagne flutes. He looked impossibly handsome, his perfect hair waving just so over his forehead, those blue eyes twinkling at her. As he passed the glass to her, she was very conscious of his fingers lightly brushing hers. Her head was swirling with the wine, the heat in the room, the closeness of Castle, the emotions stirred up by tonight's event; everything combined to make her feel as if she were standing on shifting sands. She quickly took the flute from him and, unnerved by his close proximity, she downed it in one.

His mouth fell open. What had gotten into her? 'Come on, Writer Boy, drink up.' So he did just that. As she saw the line of his strong, tanned neck as he tilted his head back, she felt her hands twitching with something that felt strongly like longing. She breathed in sharply and then said to herself, _To hell with playing it safe!_

She grinned at him, grabbed his hand and said, 'Let's strut our stuff.' Not needing to be told twice, he led her to the dance floor.

As soon as they got there, the band started playing Adele's 'One and Only.' Most people moved a little nearer to their partner instinctively, as the lushly romantic, haunting melody poured over them. The writer and the detective stared into each other's eyes for an endless few seconds, their hands still loosely linked together.

Kate lost herself in those ocean blue depths for a moment, as images from the last few months flashed through her mind.

Castle saving her again and again, standing by her even when she tried to push him away. Helping her to recuperate; organising this benefit in memory of her mother; trying to get on the good side of the new Captain. Castle being there, just being there for her. Her harbour in the storm. Why was she still running away from him? Why was Josh still in her life? He had not showed up and she had barely given him a moment's thought. If she were being honest, she was rather glad of it, as she had wanted to spend the time with Castle.

Then Kate came to a decision, ably assisted by the effect of alcohol on a system not used to it. She bit her bottom lip in the way that made Castle lose all rational thought, slid her arms around his neck and put her cheek against his. He gulped and had to remember to inhale, before putting his arms around her and closing the gap between their bodies.

She sighed a little and nestled in a little closer. He was the perfect height for her, the perfect size. Their bodies fitted together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The sensible Detective Beckett side of her tried to tap her on the shoulder, to tell her that she would regret this later. _Shut up, Beckett_, she told herself. _It's just a dance_. And the Beckett part of her rolled her eyes and said, _Katie, that is such BS_. But Kate closed her eyes and clung to Castle more tightly.

He had no idea what was going on with her. Probably the champagne could be blamed, at least in part, so he would have to try to be a gentleman and not take advantage of her. However, there was no power on earth that could stop him from having this dance with her. No one could be expected to have that much strength of will.

They drifted around the floor for the next few songs, in a haze of bliss, unaware of anything but each other's breathing, each other's smell. The scent of cherries and lemons mingled. They slowed down unconsciously until they were really just swaying in one spot. They did not loosen their hold on each other, not for a second.

Martha, leaving the dance floor for some much needed refreshment, saw the two of them and smiled knowingly. As she watched them, she caught her breath. Such love and tenderness. What were those two doing, still circling each other, still pretending they were just friends? She had a feeling that situation would be changing very soon, judging by what was happening on the dance floor.

However, as the music became even more seductive, Kate suddenly seemed to realise what they were doing and she pulled away, though not without a feeling of loss as she did so.

'I need some fresh air.' Kate's face was a little too pink and her eyes were over-bright. Immediately he realised this, Castle took her hand and led her to the French windows at the side of the room that opened onto a huge balcony overlooking the Manhattan skyline.

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Once outside, he took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She smiled her gratitude, trying to act normally, though the sight of Richard Castle in a tuxedo was impossibly distracting, especially now he had taken off the jacket to reveal the crisp, snowy white evening shirt covering those broad shoulders and powerful chest. She gulped and then tried to disguise it with a small cough.

'Are you ok?' he asked anxiously. 'It's not too cold out here, is it?'

'No, I'm fine! Look how beautiful it is.' And she gestured to the picture perfect skyline, with all the lights of a New York night highlighted by a huge, full moon shining silver behind the skyscrapers.

'Yes, extraordinarily beautiful.' She knew just from the slightly husky tone of his voice that, if she looked at him, he would be staring at her, not the scenery. Thank God it was dark enough to hide her blushes, caused by the implied compliment and the effect the maple syrup tones of his voice had on her insides. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear it._ Stop acting like a love-sick teenager!_ Beckett admonished herself.

To give herself something to do, she walked over to the stone balustrade at the edge of the terrace, which overlooked the park. He followed behind her, and, when she stopped a little abruptly, he put his hands onto her upper arms to stop himself bumping into her.

They could feel the heat of each other's body; only thin layers of white cotton and purple silk kept skin from touching skin. He realised that he needed to move away, though it seemed an impossible feat of willpower to stop himself from maintaining that contact.

Kate could not breathe at the feeling of his large hands touching the bare skin of her arms. The warmth emanating from him spread through her veins like lightning. She understood what corny romance novelists meant when they talked about someone going weak at the knees. What was wrong with her? She had been physically close to Castle innumerable times before and he had never had this effect on her.

_Come on now_, said the Kate voice in her head, _that is completely untrue_. There were more times than she cared to admit when she had been painfully aware of the writer's physical presence. When little tendrils of desire had snaked through her, setting her nerve endings on fire, just like now. What about the kiss they had shared? Oh, God, she should not let that image into her head! How many sleepless nights had it caused her, the memory of how his warm, firm mouth had felt, what it had been like to have his fingers twined in her hair, pulling her forcefully towards him? She gave a little groan, and the Beckett part of her shrugged her shoulders and disappeared, gracefully accepting defeat.

Castle's mind was a mass of conflicting thoughts. He did not move his fingers at all, afraid to alert her further to the fact that he was touching her. He was expecting some sarcastic or irritated remark any second, or for her to twist away from him. To his amazement, and to the detriment of his heartbeat, which suddenly sped up like a runaway train, Kate raised her hands to grasp his where they were holding her arms. She pulled his arms around her and laid her head on his chest.

For a moment, for an eternity, he did nothing. Then he tightened his arms around her and lowered his head so his cheek was resting against hers; he could hardly believe that she was allowing him to do this.

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Kate felt those strong arms pulling her against his body and the warm skin of his face against hers. She had to remind herself to breathe. She snuggled in against that well-built chest and gripped his arms more firmly. She felt warm and truly safe, for the first time since she had been shot. Safe in her Castle cocoon, surrounded by his tenderness and lo...

No, her mind shied away from that word. She was not ready to go there just yet. He did not know that she had heard his declaration after she had been shot, and she refused to think about it, just yet. She needed her life to get back to normal, or as normal as it could be, before she could deal with something that complicated.

So why was she standing here, under the stars, enveloped in Richard Castle's arms, while her 'perfect' boyfriend was probably at that moment saving a life in the hospital a few miles away? She sighed, and Castle, eternally sensitive to her every mood, wrapped his arms around her a little tighter, trying to bring her wordless comfort for whatever was on her mind.

Without thinking about what she was doing, acting on instinct alone, she turned in the circle of his embrace, wound her arms around his neck, and rested her forehead on his. The thought flashed through his head that he might just have a heart attack and topple off the balcony, but it would be totally worth it. Then she spoke, in a voice thick with emotion.

'Thank you, Rick.'

'For what?'

'For sticking with me, no matter what.'

And she knew what was coming, even before he said it. Her heart, already racing, missed a beat.

'Always.'

And there it was.

She moved her face infinitesimally closer to his, and, so low he could hardly hear it, she repeated their word against his mouth. 'Always.'

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You could not have said who bridged the final, tiny, yet enormous, gap that separated them. Whoever it was, after over three years of dancing around each other, of misunderstandings and misery and almosts and if onlys... their lips met.

For Kate, it was as if she were finally able to breathe properly for the first time in months. As if she could fill her lungs with sweet, clean air, after so many weeks of feeling like she was suffocating.

And for Castle, the tight band that had been wrapped around his heart for so long was suddenly released. It could beat freely, its rhythm hammering out 'Kate, Kate, Kate', which it had wanted to do ever since the day he had first met her.

The kiss was gentle at first. Sweet, loving, soft as the promise of rain in springtime. Then their lips parted. Castle's tongue licked Kate's bottom lip, before delicately entering her mouth to touch the tip of her tongue. She moaned, and so did he.

And they were lost.

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She threaded her hands through his thick, baby-soft hair, dragging his head as close to hers as possible, not caring that their lips were being bruised with the force of their embrace. Castle pushed his jacket off her shoulders and then wound his arms even more fiercely around her. His hands were on her back, running over the smooth expanse of skin exposed by her dress. He had no coherent thought in his head, just a riot of sensory details. The way she tasted, the silkiness of her skin, the paradoxical softness and yet firmness of her body that seemed to fit so perfectly with his, the erotic sound of the soft sighs and moans that she seemed unable to stop escaping into his mouth as it stayed fused with hers.

They could not have said how long the kiss lasted, because they could not have imagined that something that felt so indescribably, fundamentally _right_ could have a beginning or an end. It was as if this was what they had been leading up to from the first second of their first meeting. It had an inevitability about it that would have shocked both of them, if they had been able to think clearly about anything at that moment.

They were both trembling when they pulled apart, just far enough to take in some much needed oxygen. He forced his eyelids open and found her shining green eyes staring at him a few millimetres away. Their lips were still so close they could feel each other smiling.

'Rick'.

'Kate.'

They spoke at the same time and the smiles broadened.

'Let's get out of here.'

And the wicked twinkle in her eyes, and what that look promised as she said it, made Castle pull her into a bear hug and kiss her to within an inch of her life. As another little growl of pleasure escaped her lips, a loud crash made them jump and then pull apart, turning towards the windows.

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'Kate, what the HELL is going on?' And there he was, looking like a male model from a catalogue in his tuxedo, glowering next to the chair he had knocked over.

Josh.

Castle let go of Kate and moved sideways away from her, a guilty yet defiant look on his face. Kate went red and said, 'Josh, I...'

'I KNEW there was something going on between you two! But you always denied it!'

'There's nothing...' She stopped. She shut her mouth firmly and stared at him. It hit her like a ton of bricks that she had been living a complete lie for far too long.

Enough. She was tired of not being honest with herself and everyone else.

As she stood there, trying to think what to say, she realised that, when she had seen her boyfriend standing there, she had felt shocked, guilty, embarrassed; all the emotions you would expect. But uppermost had been severe disappointment at being interrupted, at not being able to drag Rick off to her apartment to do all those things with him that had haunted her dreams for more than three years.

Kate felt relief flooding through her. This was going to end tonight, and something else, something real, was going to begin. She just had to sort it out once and for all. One quick, painful tug was the way to get that band aid off. And that was just what she was going to do. She could feel guilty or sad for Josh later, but now she had to get her life back on track.

She took Castle's hand and squeezed it briefly, smiling at him reassuringly. Then she walked towards Josh saying, 'We need to talk. Now. And we need to drink while doing it. Let's see if any of that expensive champagne's left.' There was no trace of embarrassment or awkwardness in her demeanour. The two men looked at her in bemusement.

Kate took Josh's arm to lead him back into the ballroom. She looked over her shoulder at Castle, standing by the balustrade, a deer in the headlights look on his face, totally unsure about what on earth was happening. She let go of Josh's arm, and walked back to Castle. She kissed him briefly but passionately on the mouth. He still had not spoken a word. She couldn't help but laugh at the silence from the normally garrulous writer and then she said, 'I'll be right back when I've dealt with this. Don't go anywhere. We need to finish what we started, for once!"'

She patted him on the cheek, and then she walked back to where Josh was standing open mouthed and furious at her little display. She took his arm again and then sashayed inside, dragging Doctor Motorcycle Boy with her, hips swinging as if she did not have a care in the world.

And Richard Castle awoke from his trance, realising that he was not going to be the one going home alone tonight. He felt that things were so right with the world that it deserved one of his rarely used, reserved only for special occasions, expressive of extreme happiness, double fist pumps. So he did just that, a grin across his face wider than the sky.

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_Thank you for reading!__ Reviews are always received with humility, gratitude and a little happy dance in my chair as I read them. __ Constructive criticism is always welcome, as that is the only way to improve._

_(And to anyone wondering what happened to my Buffy story, I abandoned it or it abandoned me. I rewrote the last chapter a dozen times and it was worse each time. I am very sorry to those people who had me on alerts. So in a couple of weeks I will be revising the whole thing as I have a long holiday and I promise to FINISH it! It has been a salutary lesson. Never publish until you finish a story in its entirety!)_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: In my heart, Castle belongs to me, but nowhere else.

_A/N: Well, I meant it to be a one-shot but the encouragement I have had from some lovely people made me decide to add an epilogue. Just to make my position on Doctor Motorcycle Boy ABSOLUTELY clear! _

_Thank you to those of you who reviewed or said such nice things on the ABC boards. I was nervous about posting and you really made me glad that I was brave enough to publish it. So THANK YOU! I would love some reviews and constructive feedback, if you have time! _

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Chapter Two:

Castle had grabbed a passing waiter and asked him for a bottle of champagne and two glasses. The bubbly was in an ice bucket next to him and the glasses were on the top of the stone balustrade. The writer was sitting on a chair, his long legs propped up on the wall in front of him. He had been looking at the moon, but, with his usual attention span, that had paled for him quickly. So he was playing the latest version of Angry Birds on his phone. Anything to distract him from what might be happening in the ballroom. What was taking so long? It took all his willpower not to get up and go and see what was going on.

But Beckett (No. Kate. After what had happened, he was determined not to go back to calling her Beckett. Beckett was someone he worked with. Kate was the warm, passionate armful of awe-inspiring womanhood who had moaned into his mouth and allowed their tongues and breath to mingle in ways that would be seared into his mind forever.) Well, Kate had told him to stay here and he did not want to jinx the way the evening seemed to be going. A thousand thoughts and questions were racing around his head like a hive of over-excited bees.

Doubts were now creeping in. Was it all a result of Kate being drunk? But she had seemed to be just a little merry. Nothing to make her do something completely out of character.

_Yeah, and Detective Kate Beckett letting you stick your tongue down her throat and doing it right back is so how she normally behaves! _

His ecstatic high of half an hour before had started to dissipate. Like a balloon with a tiny hole, the euphoria created by those earth-shattering kisses was slowly leaking out of him, making him sink lower and lower in the chair, deflated.

But she could not kiss him like that and not mean... something more than alcohol-induced lust. Surely? And at the end, she had kissed him in front of the surgeon and told him to wait. She had not seemed embarrassed at all, though how the heck was she going to talk her way out of that one with Josh? Yet, he had had the distinct impression that, when she had told DMB they needed to talk, she had not been about to apologise or try to mend fences with her boyfriend.

_Probably wishful thinking. You can always create a scenario that suits you, Writer Boy. Doesn't mean it's true. Beckett has told you that a thousand times. (And, boom, back to Beckett he went. That little fantasy didn't last long.) Look for the evidence. Well, she asked me to dance, she took me outside, she pulled my arms around her, she turned to face me. She kissed me first... I think. She let me kiss her again and again. So why would she do that if she loves Tall, Dark and Annoying? Or perhaps it WAS just the champagne._

Suddenly, the insulting little nicknames were not so funny. Maybe she would be the future Mrs Josh Davidson, and she was in there right now trying to fix her relationship with him.

He rubbed his hands over his face, groaning. He felt stone-cold, had never touched a drop of the hard stuff ever, sober, despite the amount of champagne he had consumed that night. He thought back over the months since the funeral. He had been through the worst time of his life, trying to help Kate to recover, while not letting on that he was investigating her mother's murder using the information Montgomery had sent him. It had been a long road to health for her.

For Castle, it had been torture. He had hated seeing her in pain, seeing her struggle physically and mentally. All the while he had been lying to her about the investigation, knowing that she would never forgive him if she found that out. And, on top of that, he had been tormented by wondering if she had heard his declaration of love at the funeral. She had never given any sign of it but had allowed Castle to be a huge part of her life and her recuperation. He was grateful for that, even though Josh had often been there, in the background. Not as much as Castle would have expected from her boyfriend, though Kate had always been ready with excuses for him.

And the writer and his muse had been growing closer and closer. He was in no doubt about that. Their fight in her apartment had never been referred to (no change there) and she had acted as if everything were normal between them. But they had been spending more and more time together, even after she came out of hospital. He had helped her a lot with her recovery and had spent endless hours at her apartment. Playing games, watching movies, eating, planning the Benefit. Acting like best friends. They had talked very little about the investigation into her shooting as the new Captain had insisted that it be handled by Ryan and Esposito alone.

Little by little they had got to the point where the day felt wrong if they did not have some sort of contact with each other. Yet Castle had resigned himself to the fact that he was destined for the best friend role forever and that he might have to watch her walk down the aisle towards another man, a vision of ethereal loveliness in white that would never be his. He had amazed himself by his ability to step into that buddy role and play it convincingly.

He had even been on a few, less than successful, dates with other women, whose names he could hardly remember now. He had been trying to find a way to live that did not revolve around him waiting for Kate to see that they should be together. On the surface, he had been managing, even if, inside, he was slowly dying.

And now here they were. She had kissed him and said that they were going to finish something 'for once.' Surely that meant that... Oh, God, he was going to go crazy out here.

So he leapt up, nearly knocking the ice-bucket stand over, determined to go inside and find out what was happening. If she had made up with Josh, he might just have to punch the surgeon in the face and then buy himself a tropical island where he could escape civilisation and lick his wounds in private. Whatever happened, they could not go on like they had been. Enough was enough.

'Whoa, there, Writer Boy. Don't waste that; it's good stuff.'

He whirled around, knocking the chair over in his haste.

And there she was, thirty feet away, a tall, slender, lavender column in the moonlight. His heart felt too big for his chest. He tried to read her expression, but she was too far away.

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As Kate stood there, seeing Castle's tall, broad-shouldered figure surrounded by a halo of golden moonlight, she felt herself trembling. And not because of the uncomfortable scene she had just gone through inside.

Most people had left, apart from a few diehard party animals who were too drunk to notice anything and who were dancing somewhat erratically to Elvis' 'Blue Suede Shoes'. Martha had kissed Kate goodbye, after saying a polite hello to Josh, and had tactfully taken Alexis and Ashley with her. The actress' mind was reeling at this latest development. What was going on with her son and the detective? If the ridiculously pretty doctor were still in the picture, then what had that dance been about? Well, Martha thought, with her usual pragmatism, she would find out in the morning what had happened, and there was nothing she could do now. Her son was old enough to fight his own battles. And she had a strong suspicion that, this time, he would win.

Josh had been civilised, because there were far too many people around for him to be able to shout and rant at her. Though, to be fair, she thought, he was not the ranting type. They had talked for longer than she had expected, because he had not wanted to give up on their relationship without a fight. She had been touched by that and it had made her feel more than a little guilty.

Yet she had not wavered, because, when she imagined herself saying goodbye to one of these men, it was the thought of a final farewell to Castle that made her feel sick to her stomach. No more Rick in her life would be unbearable. No more Josh would be sad, but it would not feel like she had lost a limb or a vital organ.

Rick was... He was as essential to her as oxygen. It was that simple and that complex. You did not usually remember that you needed to breathe in oxygen to live. But if it were not there, you would soon realise that you were going to die without it. That was it. She could not breathe without Richard Castle.

So she had said her goodbyes to Josh. Part of her hoped that he was a little relieved as he could now go off and save the world without worrying about leaving his girlfriend who was recovering from a serious injury. She knew she would feel bad about breaking things off with the handsome doctor like this, especially as he had stood by her throughout her recovery as much as his work would allow. But not tonight.

Tonight she had to face up to something that was terrifying and wonderful and... inescapable. She had finally admitted to herself that her destiny was tied up in that infuriating, contradictory, child-like, charming, tender-hearted, tall drink of water waiting outside for her. She bit her lip as she walked towards the terrace, trembling with anticipation and a little fear.

She had stopped halfway across the terrace, trying to think what to say, when he jumped out of his seat. When he heard her, he spun round to face her.

They stood for a long time, in silence, trying to gauge the mood of the other person. Kate could feel the tension radiating out of Castle, as far away as he was.

_Oh dear God, please don't let her say 'Castle, we need to talk.' I couldn't bear it. _And Castle clenched his fists at his sides.

When she saw that, Kate smiled and took a step towards him. A small step away from the past and a huge leap into the future, a future inextricably bound up with Richard Castle.

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She slowly took a few paces towards him, but he stayed where he was. He did not think that he could have moved an inch as his legs seemed frozen in place. His whole body felt paralysed as he watched the woman whom he loved, beyond reason, beyond hope, beyond anything he had thought he was capable of feeling, walking towards him.

Whatever she said now would be it. If she were planning to stay with Josh, then Castle was done. There would be no going back.

Finally, after what seemed hours, she was standing in front of him, looking up at him, a quizzical look in those expressive green eyes.

'You look like you're waiting for test results at a doctor's. Like you're expecting bad news. What's that all about?'

She seemed to be laughing at him, which, to Castle, was downright cruel. Surely she knew what she was doing to him?

'Beckett... Kate. Don't torture me. What the hell went on in there? Is Josh still here? Are you going home with him? What did you tell him about what we were doing? What WERE we doing? Are you drunk? Was that why...? I mean...'

'Jeez, Rick, which question do you want me to answer first? Calm down a little. I can sum it all up for you in a few words.'

His heart, which had suffered enough abuse for one night, faltered in his chest again. He shut his eyes tight, as if to ward off the horrible thing she might be going to say.

'Why have you got your eyes shut, Rick?' She was definitely laughing at him. Was that a good or a bad sign?

'If you can't see something, then it isn't real. Don't you know that? So if you're going to say something I don't want to hear, then I can pretend it isn't true.'

'What are you, eight? And that makes no sense. If you don't want to hear something, surely you should put your fingers in your ears, not shut your eyes?'

'Don't confuse me with your logic.'

This was so not the time for their usual banter, but Castle held onto it, like a drowning man grasping at a piece of floating driftwood. Anything rather than face what she had to say.

'Rick, you are being ridiculous. Open your eyes and look at me.'

She had called him Rick three times in a few minutes, part of his brain registered. He opened his eyes.

She was standing very close to him, almost, but not quite, touching. He could smell the usual heavenly cherry scent that would forever be associated with Kate in his mind. Her eyes held a strange mixture of amusement, nervousness and affection. Or was he just projecting? More wishful thinking on his part, no doubt.

She stared at him for a long moment. His expression was one of fear and doubt and yet there was still tenderness and desire there.

Always. That was what he had promised her more than once. For so long she had refused to believe that or to have faith in him that he would keep his word. She had known that Castle had the power to take her heart and crush it like no other man she had ever met. For that reason, it had never seemed worth the risk to let him in. She doubted she would recover from Richard Castle walking away from her, which had seemed to be his usual m.o. with women. Three years of keeping her distance, trying to protect herself, to avoid falling into the moment with this man.

She was still scared. She trusted Castle with her life, but it was so much harder to trust him with her heart. There were no guarantees, and she was someone who wanted everything in her life to be sure and solid. Love was anything but that. And perhaps that was what made it so awful and so beautiful.

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As she gazed into those eyes that saw everything differently from anyone else, which saw her as extraordinary, when she felt herself to be anything but that, she took a deep breath. She cupped his face in her hands and spoke softly to him.

'You know, Rick. I don't need words. Words are not always the answer, Writer Boy'.

With that, she kissed him. A gentle, magical touch of lips on lips into which she tried to pour all the words and feelings she was not yet ready to say out loud.

Then she pulled back and forced him to look at her. The wonder, the shock, the joy, the love she saw on his face, made the tears well up in her eyes. She blinked them away and, trying to inject a stern note into her voice, she said, 'Have I made myself perfectly clear? Josh is gone. I am here. This is a beginning. Ok?'

His grin was so wide she thought it must be hurting his face. He still said nothing but just nodded, and then lowered his face to hers, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth and sucking on it until she stopped thinking and just wound her arms behind his head. He pulled her to him, gripping her hard enough that she would probably have a few bruises in the morning, but what did that matter?

The kiss deepened and they clung to each other, hardly able to stand up.

The planet kept on turning: the waiters were inside clearing up, the band was playing its last song. Everything continued as normal, as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening.

Yet, for the writer and the detective, they had finally found extraordinary. And, with luck, they would keep on finding it.

Always.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo


End file.
